Once Upon a Christmastime
by Data Girl 3
Summary: With the first Christmas in Storybrooke since the curse ended approaching, Mary Margret is determined to make sure the holiday is extra special for her reunited family. But when Roland goes missing with a nasty snowstorm on the rise, the festivities turn into a race against time to find him. (Set in the Rash Defamation universe)
1. Mary Margret's Plan

The thin blanket of fresh snow on the pavement crunched underfoot as the children stepped off the school bus parked at the bus stop on Main Street. Today was the official start of Christmas Vacation in Storybrooke, and all the school children were eager to begin the break from school.

As Henry broke away from the group of his classmates to make his way to his grandparents' place, he stopped when he heard someone calling out his name.

"Henry! Hey, Henry!" Turning, Henry saw his friend and classmate, Grace (who sometimes went by Paige) jogging over to him. A smile immediately appeared on his face when he saw her. Ever since the new school year had begun, they hadn't seen each other that often, due to them no longer sharing any classes. But they had become very good friends over the summer.

"Hi, Grace," Henry greeted when she reached his side. "What's going on?"

"I've been wanting to tell you all day!" Grace stated, her excitement evident on her face. "Papa and Belle finally returned home from the Enchanted Forest last night!"

"Really?" Henry exclaimed. "That's great!" It had been months since Jefferson and Belle had ventured into the Enchanted Forest to secure the objects that remained in Rumpelstiltskin's vault, to ensure they wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. Even though Grace had been able to keep in touch with them with an enchanted compact mirror Emma had given them, it had been clear that she missed them terribly. So Henry was very happy to hear that they'd returned home at last.

"Yeah," Grace agreed with a nod. "And I was told to give this to you." As Grace spoke, she handed Henry a small envelope. Upon opening it, he saw it was an invitation.

"You're going to be hosting a Christmas dinner?" Henry asked as he read the invitation.

"Well, it's a combination of a Christmas dinner and a celebration of Papa and Belle's safe return," Grace explained. "Belle wanted a way to express how much she's missed everyone. And, considering the size of the guest list, it makes sense for them to host the party at Papa's house. It's one of the only places in town that's big enough accommodate everyone."

"Yeah, good point," Henry agreed, trying to picture everyone trying to fit into the loft apartment, which was cramped enough with his grandparents and mother living under the same roof. "So, you wanna come over for a bit? Grandma's going to be making her Christmas cookies."

"I'd like that," Grace replied. "But I need to get home soon. The weatherman said a nasty snowstorm's going to hit town the day after tomorrow, so Papa wants to get to the store as soon as possible, so we can get everything we need for Christmas dinner before the blizzard hits."

"Okay," Henry said, nodding in understanding. "I'll see you later, then."

* * *

When Henry made it back to the loft apartment, Mary Margret and Emma had already finished laying out the ingredients in preparation for their cookie baking. On the dining table, there were a good number of decorative tins waiting to be filled. When the Dark Curse was in effect, Mary Margret had held a tradition of giving out tins of homemade cookies to the town residents every Christmas. A tradition that Emma had participated in the year before, when they had simply been roommates with no knowledge of their true relation to one another. While this would be the first Christmas in Storybrooke since the curse was broken and everyone's memories were restored, Mary Margret saw no reason not to continue the tradition. But this time, it would be a true family tradition.

As the three of them worked on mixing up the dough and preheating the oven, Henry told Emma and Mary Margret about Jefferson and Belle's return, and how they were inviting everyone to Christmas dinner at Jefferson's mansion. Both women expressed no objection to the idea. In fact, it seemed like the perfect solution to an issue they hadn't gotten around to discussing. Mary Margret's pregnancy had reached the fifth month, and she had been instructed to not overstrain herself. Considering this would be the first Christmas where her whole family was back together, expecting her to take it easy when it came to preparing the holiday dinner seemed like wishful thinking. So the news that Jefferson and Belle were inviting everyone over seemed like the answer to their prayers.

In no time at all, the delicious smells of vanilla and cinnamon filled the loft apartment as the batches of sugar cookies and snickerdoodles baked in the oven. The enticing aromas were accompanied with amicable chatter with occasional laugher as Mary Margret, Emma and Henry talked about nothing in particular. When the first batch of sugar cookies had cooled enough to decorate, there was a soft knock on the door. Upon answering the door, Emma found Robin's small son, Roland, looking up at her.

"OH, hello, Roland," Emma greeted.

"Hi," Roland replied. "Is Henry home?"

"Yes, he is. Why don't you come inside? We're about to start decorating the Christmas cookies. Would you like to help?"

"Yeah!" Needing no further invitation, Roland stepped inside and promptly climbed up into the chair next to Henry, giving him a wide smile. Ever since Henry had helped Roland escape from Zelena's horde of flying monkeys months ago, the young boy had practically hero worshiped him.

As Mary Margret offered Roland a kid's paint brush and the pallet of colored sugar icing, Roland started to glance around at the various decorations that already filled the loft apartment, from the strands of garland wrapped around the wooden weight-bearing poles and banisters to the small tree standing in the corner of the room.

"Who's that?" Roland asked, pointing at a cardboard cutout of Santa and his reindeer, which was taped to the wall.

"Oh, of course," Mary Margret said, eyes widening in realization. "That's Santa Claus and his reindeer. I'd almost forgotten you weren't familiar with Christmas, since you weren't brought over to Storybrooke through the curse like the rest of us."

"You don't have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest?" Emma asked.

"No, we didn't have Christmas," Mary Margret stated. "At least, not quite. In the Enchanted Forest, we had the Winter Solstice Celebration, which does have similar traditions. Such as the evergreen trees being brought indoors. But the Winter Solstice Celebration was mainly focused on celebrating the fact that the winter was half-over. It was a celebration of life, and the reminder that spring would come again. Christmas, on the other hand, Roland; it's a special time of year where you get together with your family and closest friends. It's a time to express your love for one another, and show kindness and generosity to everyone. Even people you don't know very well."

"And who's Santa?" Roland asked again.

"Santa Claus is a very special part of Christmas," Mary Margret continued. "After everyone goes to sleep in Christmas Eve, Santa will come on his magic sleigh, pulled by flying reindeer. He visits every house, leaving presents for all the good little boys and girls."

"Really?" Roland exclaimed with wide eyes.

"I'm surprised Henry hasn't told you about Santa, yet." Emma commented.

"I don't think he's real," Henry admitted, focusing his eyes on the cookie he was decorating.

"Really?" Emma blinked in surprise. "I'd have thought you'd believe in Santa more than anyone."

"I wasn't really allowed to believe in Santa," Henry explained with a shrug. "Apart from the candy canes we got in school, the only gifts I ever got on Christmas were from my other mom." Emma could only stare in shock for a few minutes as Henry continued to decorate the cookies in front of him. Finally, she was able to tear her eyes away to look up at Mary Margret, who was giving her a sorrowful look. Wordlessly, she gestured for Emma to come over for a private word.

"I didn't realize Regina didn't even let him believe in Santa," Emma stated once she and Mary Margret had moved to the other side of the loft.

"I'm sorry for not telling you before," Mary Margret apologized. "It's just…. I could tell how upset you were last year, when it was just the two of us for Christmas. I could tell you wanted so badly to at least see Henry for a little bit, and how sad you were that you two couldn't be together that day. I thought that, if you knew Henry didn't believe in Santa Claus, it would only upset you even more."

"Yeah, I get that," Emma replied. "It's just… I thought _every_ kid believed in Santa at some point. And, since Henry's supposed to have the heart of the Truest Believer, or whatever Pan said, I thought he'd believe in Santa more than everyone else."

"Well, maybe this year will be different," Mary Margret pointed out.

"What, are you saying you think there _is_ a Santa Claus?" Emma asked. "But I thought you said Christmas didn't exist in the Enchanted Forest."

"Well, that doesn't mean he didn't exist in some _other_ world," Mary Margret announced. "After all, Dr. Whale didn't come from the Enchanted Forest, but he still wound up in Storybrooke. And, now that the curse is broken and everyone has their memoires back…."

"Hang on," Emma interrupted. "Didn't Dr. Whale come over in the curse because Regina _wanted_ him to? So, why would she have specifically chose to bring over Santa Claus?"

"Oh," Mary Margret's shoulders slumped slightly. "I guess you have a point. Even if there _was_ a Santa in some other realm, the curse wouldn't have picked him up unless Regina willed it to."

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "So… maybe, in this case, it's best that Henry never believed in the first place."

In response, Mary Margret let out a noncommittal hum. But a plan was already formulating in her head.

* * *

Mary Margret made her way down the Storybrooke pier, clutching her parcels close to her side. Even with her heavy winter coat on, she could still feel the early winter chill in the air. So it amazed her to see the group of men moving briskly about the docked ship, showing no sign of being bothered by the frigid coastal wind. Perhaps it was possible that their years at sea helped them grow accustomed to working in bad weather. Even so, she couldn't fight the empathetic shiver at seeing one particular figure standing out on deck without so much as a scarf around his neck. Right away, she made a mental note to try and convince him to expand on his wardrobe. At least to include something that would offer more protection against the wind and snow. Maybe she could even coerce him into it by giving him a new winter coat for Christmas. And perhaps a matching hat and mittens, as well.

 _Well, maybe just_ _ **one**_ _mitten,_ Mary Margret amended to herself.

As Mary Margret approached the gangway, the man standing closest to the railing glanced up and saw her.

"Good morrow, my lady," he greeted, getting to his feet.

"Hello, Starkey," Mary Margret replied, making her way up the gangway. "What are all of you up to?"

"We're preparing the Jolly Roger for the storm that they say is on the way," Starkey explained. "The sails have to be taken down and stored below, and the gun ports need to be sealed shut, among other things. And we have to take steps to ensure no snow gets below deck. Otherwise, we'll have a flooding issue when the snow melts."

"Well, if you're going to be out her for a while," Mary Margret announced, "perhaps you really _will_ need something to keep your energy up. I've brought you all these fresh-baked cookies, so you can share them amongst yourselves. I also brought you something warm to drink." As Mary Margret spoke, she held out a large tin of cookies, along with a large thermos.

"Thank you, your highness," Starkey replied, accepting the gifts with a large smile.

"Alright then, Starkey," Hook announced, stepping over. "You heard the lady. Better start distributing those vittles to the rest of the crew."

"Aye, captain!" Starkey said, turning and rejoining the others. After watching for a moment as Starkey started handing out the cookies to Smee, Bill and Robert, Hook turned back to Mary Margret.

"I might be wrong," he began, a hint of concern gracing his expression as he glanced down at Mary Margret's baby bump, "but I'd heard you were instructed to take it easy, for the sake of the little prince or princess there. Coming out here in the cold, carrying that large drinking vessel, hardly strikes me as following the good doctor's orders."

"It wasn't that much of an effort," Mary Margret insisted. "Besides, I hate the thought of you and your men working outside in this weather. Making sure you had something to keep your energies up seemed the least I could do."

"Well, for what it's worth, your efforts are appreciated," Killian stated. "Although, I wouldn't make a habit of it. You spoil my crew too much, and they might grow negligent about their duties."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mary Margret promised. "Although, I do have a confession. I did have _another_ reason to come out here."

"And what was that?"

"Well, you've been spending quite a bit of time with my daughter, so…" Mary Margret trailed off when she noticed a shift in Killian's expression. Up until now, he'd maintained an air of casual formality, but the moment he'd heard Mary Margret bring up the subject of Emma, he suddenly looked resigned, and almost fearful. Immediately, she realized what he was thinking.

"Oh, no!" she went on, speaking quickly. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm not here to discourage your relationship with Emma."

"You're not?" Killian asked, visibly surprised.

"No. Emma seems happy with you. And that's all I've ever wanted for her. Actually, I was going to say that… I was hoping you'd be willing to do me a favor. I know it's probably asking for a lot. And if it wasn't for the fact that you're dating my daughter, I wouldn't have even _dared_ asking."

"What is it that you want?"

"Well," Mary Margret began, choosing her words carefully. "To start off, I'd like to know how much Emma has told you about Christmas."

* * *

 **AN** : I really don't know what procedures have to be done with old wooden ships like the Jolly to prepare them for snowy weather while in port. As you can imagine, the only information I can find on the subject is limited to modern motor-powered boats. So if the information isn't accurate, then I apologize.


	2. The Christmas Party

**AN:** This is directed at the person who left the guest review for the last chapter. I normally wouldn't bother replying to guest reviews, as it frustrates me how guest reviewers rarely give the writer the means to respond to them. But given the nature of the guest review, I felt I had to say something.

Now, this is not meant to be a jab at Regina, but S1 Regina was not a nurturing mother to Henry. Oh, I'm sure she loved him, but it she treated him more like a toy she didn't want to share then an actual son. She didn't ever seem to show much concern for his feelings throughout the first season. This was the woman who threw Henry into therapy when he started to suspect something wasn't right about Storybrooke. She knew perfectly well that Henry was right in his suspicions, but she tried to convince everyone, including Henry, that he was crazy, because she wanted to have her cake and eat it too. She frequently discouraged Henry from having a releationship with anyone else. And I'm not just talking about Emma. Remember how Henry was reported to not have any friends at school. Plus, if what we saw from Evil Queen in 6x08 was any indication, Pre-S1 Regina would often bully and scold Henry for having normal little-boy fears. I'm sorry, but these are not the action of a loving mother. I'm not saying Regina hasn't gotten better lately, but S1 Regina was a terrible mother to Henry, and I don't see any point in denying it. So I don't think Regina would have encouraged Henry to believe in Santa Claus when he was growing up. She would have most likely tried to nip that in the bud, and make sure he knew that she was the one who got him all his presents. That was just the vibe I got from S1 Regina.

With that said, on to the story.

* * *

The following evening found the Christmas party at Granny's in full swing. Throughout the diner, people were filling up on mushroom tarts, deviled eggs, rye bread dip and other various finger foods, washing it down with eggnog, mulled wine, or cranberry punch. The youngest children were sitting in the corner, listening to Granny as she read them _The Night Before Christmas_ or involving themselves in Christmas themed coloring pages. Over at the counter, Belle was conversing with Robin about the recent expedition.

"So, everything that was left over in Rumpelstiltskin's vault has been properly neutralized?" Robin asked.

"For the most part," Belle confirmed. "There were a few items even the most experienced fairies among the group couldn't identify. Like this golden urn that we found. We brought those artifacts back with us so Blue could properly examine them. Maybe she can figure out what to do with them."

After a pause, Belle glanced over at the opposite end of Granny's, where Regina was sitting. It was clear the woman was attempting to cast furtive glances at Robin, but was failing to be subtle about it.

"I don't mean to be nosy," she began, "but…how are things going between you and Regina? When we left for the Enchanted Forest a few months ago, it seemed like things were a bit…uncertain?"

"That's one way of putting it," Robin allowed. "It's actually difficult to say where things stand right now. But I can see she is _trying_ to become a better person. And, when she apologized for what she did to Marian, it was clear she was sincere in her remorse. At the moment, we're simply taking baby steps."

"For what it's worth," Belle said, placing a friendly hand on Robin's arm, "I can appreciate how hard it can be to give someone who hurt you a second chance. But if you think it's _worth_ _it_ to take a chance, especially when the person is making a genuine effort, then it's important to remember not to wait too long. And it is Christmas, after all. It's the perfect time for new beginnings."

"I'll keep that in mind," Robin promised. Accepting that answer, Belle simply smiled, turning her attention to the rest of the party. In doing so, her eye was caught by something that made a sly look appear on her face. After politely excusing herself, Belle stepped away from Robin and maneuvered her way towards the back of the room, where Jefferson was talking with Grace's other parents. The moment she reached his side, Belle stepped up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Well, now," Jefferson said, an instant smile forming on his face as he casually wrapped an arm around Belle. "What brought that on?"

"You really should watch where you're standing," Belle pointed out, gesturing to the sprig of mistletoe that was hanging overhead.

"Ah, of course," Jefferson chuckled, eyeing the mistletoe. "Well, far be it from me to go against tradition." With that, Jefferson bent down to place a tender kiss in Belle's lips.

From the Charming's usual booth, Henry and Grace watched the exchange in in mild befuddlement.

"Wow, it looks like your dad and Belle really got close when they were away," Henry noted. "When they left, they seemed rather shy about it."

"Yeah, I know," Grace agreed. "It makes me wonder what exactly happened when they were away. Maybe they'll tell us, someday."

"So, how do you feel about it?" Henry asked. "I mean, about Belle dating your dad?"

"Well, you have to remember I was only two when Mom died," Grace pointed out. "So I guess it's not as weird as it could have been. Besides, Belle's nice. And I can't remember the last time I saw Papa smile this much. I'm sure _you_ understand. Your mom's dating Captain Hook, right?"

"Yeah, Hook's okay," Henry said, glancing over to the refreshment table where Emma and Killian were standing around, with Emma talking with Ashley while Killian lightly played with a lock of Emma's hair. "And I do want my mom to be happy."

"She certainly seems to be," Grace noted. "But I don't see how _anyone_ wouldn't be happy with someone who looked at them quite like that."

"Like what?" Henry asked in curiosity.

"It's hard to describe," Grace said with a small shrug. "But it's the same way I've seen your grandpa look at your grandma when she's not looking." When Henry continued to look confused, Grace gave him a gentle smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll notice it someday. Maybe women just pick up on it easier."

"You're not a woman," Henry pointed out.

"No, but I am going to grow up to be one, someday."

Across the room, Ashley had finished her chat with Emma and had headed off to rejoin Sean and Baby Alexandra, who was sound asleep in her stroller.

"So, what do you think of your first Christmas party?" Emma asked, turning towards Killian.

"It does seem like a lovely party. Although, that cream drink the dwarfs insisted I try tastes like uncooked custard. And I don't think it actually contains eggs, which makes me question the name. Of course, I have nothing to compare the overall experience of a Christmas party with. And not just because it's been centuries since I attended a ball without seeking to make off with the crown jewels." To highlight his statement, Killian gave Emma a saucy wink. "Perhaps you can tell me how this compares to the Christmas parties you've been to before. It might give me a better idea of how people usually celebrate."

"I wouldn't know," Emma stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "I didn't attend many Christmas parties before I came to Storybrooke. Not since when I was 15, when the school did one of those generic parties because the teachers knew the kids weren't going to be paying attention in class."

"Well, what about after that?" Killian asked. "When you were back in your old life as a bails bonds-person…woman? Didn't you ever attend any…office parties or anything like that?"

"Look at you, brushing up on the 21st century. Yeah, I showed up at a few of them, but I never really stayed long. And I don't think anyone even noticed when I left early." Killian, upon hearing this, fixed Emma with a look of sincere sympathy, but before he could say anything, Mary Margret appeared at his side.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "But I need to borrow Hook for a moment. It's about those…driving lessons you voiced an interest in."

"Wait, driving lessons?" Emma asked, looking at Killian incredulously.

"Well, you said yourself I was brushing up on the 21st century," Killian reminded. "Might as well do a thorough job of it." After placing a kiss on Emma's forehead, Killian followed Mary Margret to the other side of the diner.

"So," Mary Margret whispered covertly. "Did you manage to convince him?"

"Aye," Killian confirmed. "He should be here soon. I made sure he knew that he'd have to clean the barnacles off the Jolly Roger without assistance if he didn't show up tonight."

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know," Mary Margret scolded good-naturedly. "But still, I can't wait to see the look on Henry's face when…."

Before she could finish her thought, a sudden commotion was heard outside. Almost instantly, the whole diner fell silent, turning in unison to glance at the door as the sounds of objects falling over drifted in from the patio seating area, accompanied by an agitated voice. It was Emma and David who snapped out of it first, and they quickly stepped outside to see what was going on. The moment they saw what was causing the trouble, however, they immediately froze in their tracks, shock filling their faces. There, standing out on the patio, currently knocking over a potted evergreen tree, was a living, breathing reindeer. To make the situation even more surreal, a man dressed up in a Santa suit was standing nearby, trying to drag the reindeer away from the mess. After sharing a glance, Emma and David approached the man, who looked up when they got close.

"Oh, um…" he stammered before seemingly collecting himself. "I mean…. Ho, ho, ho! Sorry I'm late. I had a touch of trouble with my sleigh." Immediately, Emma's eyes narrowed in confusion, realizing that the man's voice was familiar. Moments later, she was able to place the voice.

"Smee?" she cried in shock.

"Uh… no, I'm not," Smee insisted, sounding nervous. "You must have me confused with someone else."

"Mr. Smee, we know it's you," David retorted in a no-nonsense tone, folding his arms.

"What are you doing in that getup?" Emma questioned. "And where did you find a reindeer?"

"Well…." Smee began, glancing over at the animal. Before he could finish, however, Emma spoke up again.

"No, on second thought, _don't_ tell me about the reindeer. I don't think I want to know. But I _do_ want to know why you're dressed like that."

"The captain asked me to," Smee explained quickly. "He said…."

"Woah!" The sound of Henry's exclamation cut off Smee's attempt at explaining. Turning in unison, the three of them saw Henry standing in the doorway of Granny's, along with Mary Margret and some of the other children.

"Oh, look everyone!" Mary Margret cried in excitement. "Look who it is!" In the blink of an eye, the younger children surged forward amidst a chorus of cheers.

"It's Santa!"

"Look, he even brought one of his reindeer!"

"Which one is he?"

"Do you think it's Dasher?"

"No, I think that's Cupid."

"Santa, which reindeer is he?"

As the children crowded around Santa Smee, Emma turned her focus on Mary Margret, who was still standing in the doorway, and Killian, who was now at her side. After making sure Henry was among the children showering Santa Smee with questions, she stepped over to them.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Why is Smee dressed up like Santa? He said _you_ put him up to it, Hook. I want answers."

"It was _my_ idea," Mary Margret announced. "I thought it was the best way to help Henry regain his belief in Santa Claus."

"Are you serious?" Emma cried. "You're telling me that your plan was to dress someone up like Santa and make Henry think it's the _real_ Santa?! Mom, how does that even make sense? And you!" Emma paused to turn on Killian. "You actually were _playing along_ with it?"

"The way the plan was described to me, it sounded like a good idea at the time," Killian shrugged, lightly scratching at his ear in nervousness.

"A good idea for Henry to believe a _lie_?" Emma challenged.

"No, of course not!" Mary Margret insisted. "It's just… it always broke my heart to see Henry never having that experience of believing in Santa Claus, and being denied of an integral part of childhood. But I was never able to do anything about it, because I was just his teacher. But now, with the curse broken and our memories restored, I'm finally able to try and make up for what he missed out on. And who knows? Just because we didn't have Santa Claus in the Enchanted Forest, it's possible that he existed in some other realm. I thought this would help open Henry up to possibility that Santa _could_ exist somewhere."

"She has a point, love," Killian added. "You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. You've faced down the Queen of Hearts, Peter Pan, and the Wicked Witch of the West. And you know for a fact this town's population includes Pinocchio, Dr. Frankenstein, the Mad Hatter, and myself. If _we_ all exist, who can say that this Santa Claus person can't _also_ exist somewhere?" Emma bit her lip as she thought about this. After a pause, she glanced over at Henry again, who was still standing among the kids crowded around Santa Smee and the reindeer. She couldn't deny the sight of that huge smile on her son's face warmed her heart.

"Okay," she said, relenting.


	3. The Blizzard

In no time, the party was in full swing again. This time, the star of the show seemed to be Santa Smee, who was proving to be a big hit with the children at the party.

"Well, I guess I have to admit," Emma said, focusing on watching Henry, who was listening to Santa Smee answer the questions Roland and the other children were firing off with rapt attention. "Perhaps this plan of yours wasn't a bad idea, after all."

"I told you," Mary Margret stated proudly.

"But there's still the matter of that reindeer outside. And what we're going to do with it."

"Well, it seems to be under control at the moment," Killian noted, glancing outside to watch David coaxing the reindeer into the bed of his truck so he could transfer the animal to the horse stables until further notice. "Dave seems to have a surprising way with the beast. Never would have considered plying it with carrots, myself."

"David used to say that, when he still lived as a shepherd, he had a friend from a distant kingdom who had a reindeer," Mary Margret recalled. "I suppose he learned a bit about reindeer that way."

At that moment, the front door to Granny's opened, and Neal stepped in.

"Neal, where have you been?" Emma asked the moment he joined them at their booth.

"Sorry I'm late," Neal said. "I was working on Henry's present back at my studio, and lost track of the time."

"Well, don't just stand there," Mary Margret said. "Go get yourself something to eat and come join us. I think there's some stuff left at the refreshment table."

"Thanks," Neal replied. However, as he crossed the room, he happened to pass by Santa Smee and did a double-take.

"Smee?" he exclaimed, breaking out laughing. "What are you _wearing_? Did you lose a bet or something?" As Neal spoke, he reached out and tugged off the fake beard Santa Smee was wearing. The reaction was immediate, as the children who were standing nearby all let out loud gasps. After a short pause, some of the youngest children in the crowd started to cry, resulting in Neal's eyes to widen in shock. Huffing in agitation, Emma stood up quickly from her seat and marched over to Neal.

"Can I speak to you for a minute?" she snarled.

* * *

"Well how was I supposed to know?" Neal asked in a defensive tone of voice. "You know those kids out there were all born in the Enchanted Forest, where Santa Claus isn't a thing. Well, apart from Ashley and Sean's kid, but Alexandra's just a baby. She not old enough to even _realize_ its Christmas."

"They may have come from the Enchanted Forest, Neal," Emma retorted. "But they've spent the past 28 years in Storybrooke, and therefore know just as much about Santa as any other kid in this world. And just in case you've forgotten? Alexandra wasn't the _only_ child who was born outside the Enchanted Forest."

"Wait, you mean Henry?"

"Yes, Henry! Did you know he never has believed in Santa Claus?"

"Well, if he's never believed, then what's the big deal?" Neal shrugged.

"The big deal, Neal, is that he's supposed to be the Truest Believer!" Emma cried. "And he never was allowed to believe in something all kids do at some point."

"Mom, it's okay," Henry said, suddenly appearing behind them. "I already knew that wasn't the real Santa."

"You did?" Emma blinked in surprise. "But you seemed to really believe it."

"Yeah, because I guessed what you up to," he explained. "I know you were just trying to help me believe in Santa Claus again. I thought I should let you believe that it was working. Because I thought it would make you happy, thinking I was happy." With that, Henry stepped forward, hugging his mother tightly.

"Henry," Emma sighed, returning the hug without hesitation. "You really are something else, kid."

"Swan?" Killian began, stepping into view cautiously. "You'll be happy to know that your mother and Ashley have managed to successfully run some damage control and calmed some of the youngest children down. It appears there's going to be no cases of a child being forever scarred by tonight's fiasco."

"Well that's good to hear," Emma sighed in relief. "But that doesn't mean you're not off the hook, Neal."

"Yeah, I get it," Neal sighed. "I'm an idiot."

Emma chose not to refute that statement, and began to head back towards the party, with Henry and Killian close behind her. Just as they were about to return to the party, Robin suddenly poked his head into the backroom.

"Sorry to interrupt, Emma," he said. "But did you see Roland pass this way."

"Roland? No, I haven't seen him," Emma said, looking around in concern. "Did you check the bathrooms?"

"I've looked everywhere," Robin stated. "The bathrooms, the kitchens…"

"Maybe he went off to the stables with David to deal with the reindeer?" Neal suggested.

"Without telling me where he was going? Robin challenged.

"I'm afraid it might have an idea of where he's gone," Granny announced, appearing at Robin's shoulder. In her hand was one of the coloring pages that had been left out to give the children something to do during the party. "I just found this by the punch bowl. I think this is Roland's handwriting, isn't it?"

Frowning in concern, Robin took the sheet of paper from Granny's. Sure enough there was a message scrawled on the back, written in red crayon. Upon reading the message, Robin's eyes widened with alarm.

"He's gone off to help find the _real_ Santa!" he announced.

"He's _what_?" Emma cried.

"And from the looks of the weather outside," Granny stated, her tone grave, "That blizzard they were promising us is arriving earlier than we thought."

"Okay, let's not panic," Emma reasoned, taking charge. "We'll just have to spread out and find him. Henry? Go find Mary Margret and tell her what's happened. Have her call David, so she can keep on the lookout on the way back from the stables. Robin, Killian, Neal? Take some of the Merry Men and look around town. He couldn't have gone too far. Maybe take Ruby with you, in case she can follow his scent. Or see if Regina can quickly whip up a locator spell. I'll go drive around the edge of town, just in case he's headed out that way.

With that, Emma turned and half-jogged off, heading towards her car, which was parked across the street. Upon making outside, she saw Granny had been right about the storm arriving early. Freshly fallen snow had already completely coated the sidewalk and bushes, and the cold flakes were still falling quite heavily. If Roland had left behind footprints when he slipped away, they would have been filled in by now. Unable to stand the fact that the small boy would actually be outside in this weather, Emma quickly crossed the street and unlocked the yellow bug. When she was about to climb inside, she happened to glance back at Granny's and saw Killian hurrying over.

"What are you….?" Emma began.

"I don't much care for the thought of you driving about when the weather is getting bad," Killian explained.

"Killian, Roland is out there somewhere. If we don't find him soon…"

"I understand that. But that doesn't mean you have to go off on your own. And since your father isn't back from bringing the reindeer to the stables, I request permission to accompany you."

"Okay, get in the car," Emma ordered. "We don't have time to argue, anyway."

* * *

Within minutes, Emma was driving along the street, with Killian sitting in the passenger seat. A tense silence was hanging heavily in the air, until Killian decided to take a chance.

"Don't fret, Swan. You'll find him."

"I'm not fretting," Emma insisted.

"You haven't stopped tapping on the helm since we left Granny's," Killian pointed out.

"It's called a steering wheel," Emma retorted, glaring at her offending index finger, which she had indeed been drumming against the wheel without even realizing it. "And I'm not worried that we won't find Roland."

"Then what has you so vexed?"

"I'm upset because there's a little boy out there, looking for Santa Claus!" Emma exclaimed. "I'm upset because I should have known better than to go along with that whole Santa Smee thing. Now, there's a four year old running around Storybrooke, thinking he's going to find someone who isn't in town. And when he doesn't find Santa here in Storybrooke, it's going to crush him."

"You shouldn't think like that, love," Killian consoled. "You don't know that he'll be…."

"Yes, I _do_ know!" Emma insisted. "Because it's what happened to me!" This revelation was followed by a deafening silence, the only sound being the swish of the windshield wipers.

"Emma?" Killian prompted gently. Letting out a heavy sigh, Emma started to explain her statement.

"You remember what I told you, about my first family?"

"The Swans," Killian replied. "The ones who adopted you, but then returned you to the orphanage when they had a baby. I take it there was more to the story?"

"It was the start of December," Emma said. "The Swans had been promising to take me to the mall in Portland, so I could go see the shopping mall Santa. I was three, and _so_ excited to see Santa and tell him what I wanted for Christmas that year. But the day before we were set to go to the mall, my adopted mother had a doctor's appointment. She realized she was pregnant. That night, when I woke up to visit the bathroom, I overheard them talking in the kitchen downstairs. I couldn't really make out what they were saying, but I _did_ hear them say my name a few times. At the time, I didn't think that much about it. I just thought they were talking about our trip to the mall the next day, or how much of a great big sister I was going to be to the new baby. So, when morning came, I awoke bright and early, so eager for our outing. But….instead of the mall, they parked their car in front of the orphanage where they got me. I know I should have figured out what was going on right then, especially when I saw my adoptive father taking the suitcase out of the trunk, and my adoptive mother took me out of the car seat. But I didn't figure it out until I watched them both drive away, with the woman who oversaw the orphanage keeping a firm grip on my shoulder.

"They abandoned you right before the holiday that is supposed to be about being with your family?" Killian exclaimed, visibly aghast.

"I ran away for the first time a week after that," Emma concluded. "But I was running to the mall, so I could ask Santa if, instead of the Puffalump or tape recorder that I'd originally was going to ask for, he could bring back my family. A cop found me walking down the street, trying to find the mall. He drove me back to the orphanage, even though I begged him to bring me back to the Swans. When Christmas morning arrived, they made me stay upstairs while all the other children got to go down to open their presents. I was told I was bad for running away, and only good girls got presents from Santa. But all I'd wanted was to have my family back."

"Emma," Killian whispered, his voice filled with heartbreak for the small, dejected little girl.

"That was the year I decided there was no Santa Claus," Emma concluded. "And now, Roland is going to have his hopes crushed, too."

"You shouldn't blame yourself for that," Killian consoled.

"Yeah, Mom," Henry agreed, popping up from the backseat. "You didn't know this was going to happen."

"Henry?!" Emma cried, momentarily turning her head to stare. "What are you doing….?"

At that moment, the bug hit a patch of particularly slippery snow, causing the tires to loose traction, forcing the car to spin out. After a few harrowing seconds in which Emma tried desperately to regain control, the car wound up crashing into a snowbank on the curb, narrowly missing a tree by just inches.

"Swan!" Killian cried the moment the car came to as stop. "Emma? Henry! Are you two…?"

"I'm okay," Henry called out from the back seat.

"Yeah, fine," Emma nodded, rubbing at her temple, which had hit the window upon impact. Noticing this, Killian leaned forward, reaching out his hand to carefully assess the damage. In spite of his effort to be particularly gentle, Emma still let out a low hiss of pain when his fingers made contact.

"You're hurt," Killian gasped.

"It's nothing serious," Emma insisted. "I'll probably just have a bruise there for a few days." It was clear from the expression on his face that Killian was not convinced. But before he could say anything about it, a sudden light outside caught his attention. Looking up, he saw the porch-light on one of the nearby houses had switched on. As he watched, the front door opened up, and a figure slowly made its way over to them, holding up an old hurricane lantern. When the figure reached the car, Emma, Killian and Henry saw it was an old man they didn't recognize.

"Is everyone all right in there?" the old man asked in concern. "That was quite the accident. I saw it all from the window. You're lucky you didn't hit that tree."

"Yeah, we're okay," Emma replied.

"Except Emma his her head rather hard," Killian announced, still looking at her in deep worry, ignoring her sharp glare of betrayal.

"Hmm," the old man muttered, examining Emma's temple, which was slightly red. "Yes, it looks like you've gotten quite a bump already. It wouldn't hurt to have it looked at. And you're probably going to be in need of a tow truck to get your car back on the road. Why don't you three come inside while you wait for help to arrive? No sense in sitting out here in the cold. I've just made some stew and biscuits. You're welcome to help yourself to them."

"Thank you," Emma said with a nod, deciding to accept the invitation, simply because she didn't want to make Henry sit outside in the car.

One by one, Emma, Killian and Henry climbed out of the bug and trudged after the old man as he made his way back inside his house. Upon reaching his kitchen, however, they immediately saw they were not the only visitors this old man had received than night. There, sitting up on a stool, was little Roland, happy as a clam.

"Roland!" Emma exclaimed upon seeing him. "Where have you been? We've all been looking everywhere for you!"

"I wanted to help you find the real Santa," Roland replied. To emphasize his words, he gestured to the old man, who was now ladling some of his stew into bowls. With a jolt, Emma realized that Roland believed this old man was Santa Claus.

"Roland," she said, keeping her tone gentle as she crouched down to be level with his eyes. "You do understand that, just because someone has a beard, it doesn't mean he's actually Santa." Immediately, the old man began to laugh in amusement.

"Well, that's certainly a new one," he chuckled. "Although, considering some of the other rumors that have sprung up about me over the years, I believe I _prefer_ being thought of as Santa Claus."

"I'm really sorry about that," Emma apologized.

"No need, no need," the old man assured, now placing the bowls of stew in front of everyone. "I'm not offended by the boy thinking I'm Santa."

"I still feel bad that we're imposing on you like this, and taking your supper…"

"It's not imposing if you were invited," the old man pointed out. "And by all means, help yourself to the stew. I always make far too much, anyway."

"Thank you," Henry said, accepting his stew without much more thought. The moment he tasted the stew, his face lit up. "Mom, you have to try this! It's great."

"Maybe in a minute," Emma said, pulling out her cellphone as she made to return to the entryway. "I should make a few calls first."

* * *

By the time Emma returned to the kitchen, having finished calling for a tow truck, calling her parents to inform them of her whereabouts, and contacting Regina to let her and Robin know that Roland was safe (and that Henry hadn't been harmed when the bug went off the road), Henry, Killian and Roland had already finished their stew, and Henry had seemingly convinced the old man into preparing some hot chocolate, too. When the old man offered to pour her a mug as well, Emma was once again initially reluctant.

"A day may come, Miss Swan," the old man said, "when you'll need to learn to simply accept the kindness of a stranger without feeling suspicious. Or guilty." With a sheepish smile, Emma finally accepted the mug, but when the old man turned to reheat her bowl of stew in the microwave, she turned to whisper to the others.

"Did any of you tell him our names?" she questioned.

"No," Henry insisted. "Well, apart from when Hook called you Emma in the car."

"I told you!" Roland said in a loud whisper. "He's Santa Claus. Granny said Santa knows everything about everyone!" Pursing her lips in contemplation, Emma glanced over at the old man. It wasn't possible. Was it?

As she thought, Emma took a small sip of her hot chocolate. The moment she tasted it, her eyes widened in amazement. She couldn't remember _ever_ tasting hot chocolate quite like this. It was so thick, rich and creamy, it made her think she was actually drinking liquid chocolate. To top it off, she was even able to taste a strong hint of cinnamon. Catching Henry's eye, she saw instantly that he knew what she was thinking.

"No, I didn't tell him we like cinnamon with our hot cocoa, either," he stated. Once again, Roland was beaming, as if this proved his assumption about the old man's identity.

"What do you think, Killian?" Emma asked, turning to the pirate, who had been rather quiet. In doing so, she saw he was staring down at his now empty bowl, unmoving. "Killian? Hook! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm…I'm fine," Killian replied, finally snapping out of his trance. "Sorry, Swan. It's just…. If you're looking for a way to prove or disprove Roland's theory about our mysterious host, I'm the wrong person to ask, as I'd only heard of Santa Claus a short time ago. All I know is that…from what I've heard, Santa Claus is supposed to be the very representation of the spirit of Christmas, which is a time for remembrance and family. And… this stew…."

"What is it?" Emma urged, surprised to see a hint of a tear forming in Killian's eye.

"It was so long ago, I'd forgotten," Killian whispered. "But I remember…the last Winter Solstice Celebration we had before….my mother died. She'd made us stew that night. Our family; we were poor, so we had stew very rarely. When we did have stew, it was always a special treat. And Mother…made the best stew in the whole kingdom. So…when she died, even though Liam tried to recreate it a few times, he never quite managed it. After a few years…I'd completely forgotten what my mother's stew tasted like. Until… _this_ stew. It just…all came flooding back."

"Killian," Emma breathed, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of comfort. Killian responded by covering Emma's hand with his own, giving her a shaky smile. With her curiosity now piqued, Emma finally sampled some of the old man's stew, making a mental note to ask him for the recipe sometime, wanting to be able to make it again for Killian in the future.

* * *

Because of the weather, it was nearly an hour before the tow truck had arrived to bring the yellow bug to the local garage. To Emma's mild embarrassment, an ambulance had also shown up, on account of her parents calling one in. Thankfully, the EMTs had quickly determined Emma hadn't suffered a concussion, and didn't insist on bringing her into the hospital. They did, however, offer to give them a lift back to Granny's, as there wasn't enough room in the tow truck for all four of them.

"Thanks again. For everything," Emma said, turning to the old man as he saw them out.

"Think nothing of it, Emma. It was nice to meet you. All four of you. Perhaps I'll see you again. And have a Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, you too."

As Emma climbed into the back of the ambulance, taking a seat beside Killian, she glanced back at the house one more time. Through the window, she could see the old man sweeping the kitchen with an old broom. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that, even though the old man had addressed all four of them when saying goodbye, he seemed to be speaking directly to Henry when he spoke of seeing them again.

* * *

 **AN:** Can anyone guess who the old man was? Go ahead. Take a guess.


	4. Once Upon a Christmastime

"Mom!" Henry cried. "Mom, wake up!" Emma let out a low moan as she was shaken awake.

"Henry, wha?"

"It's Christmas morning! Wake up!" Henry cheered. With that, Henry abandoned his task of trying to wake her up and proceeded to head down to the lower level of the loft apartment. A soft smile on her face, Emma pulled herself out of bed and followed after him. When she reached the kitchenette, she saw her parents were also up, drinking coffee.

"Good morning, Emma," Mary Margret greeted, immediately walking over to hug her. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Emma," David echoed, also stepping over to hug her.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too."

After the four of them ate their breakfast of cinnamon rolls and pancakes, Henry started to pass around the small pile of presents that had been placed under the tree. Even though it was a rather small pile, it was noticeably larger than last year, when it had just been Emma and Mary Margret exchanging presents. That alone had been enough to pleasantly surprise Emma. But there were two gifts in particular that had particularly floored her. The first was a pair of diamond encrusted hair combs that her parents had given her. As she'd taken them out to get a better look at them, Mary Margret had explained that they had belonged to her mother, Eva, but she'd believed them to have been lost forever until Belle had found them while clearing out Gold's old shop.

"It's about time you had a family heirloom," Mary Margret had said.

The other present that had warmed Emma's heart had been the one Neal had dropped off for Henry, which he'd claimed to have been working on for a while. It was a rather elaborate hand-drawn family tree, with small sketches of the people whose names were featured.

"How did he manage to do this?" Emma asked in wonderment, staring at the faces of people _she_ hadn't even met, such as Queen Eva, King Leopold, and David's mother, Ruth.

"He came around while you were at the Sheriff's Station once," David had explained. "He asked us to describe what our parents had looked like. And, seeing as how Regina's parents are featured here, he must have talked to Regina about it, too."

"So, he drew them just by your descriptions of them?" Emma gaped. "I never realized he was _that_ talented."

"He said he wanted Henry to be able to have a way to know his family," Mary Margret noted.

Eventually, the presents had all been unwrapped. That was when David had found a thick parcel that had been tucked away in a secluded corner. Seeing that it was addressed to Henry, everyone sat back to see what it was. Inside was a leather bound journal and a fancy calligraphy set. As Henry admired his present, Emma leaned over to her parents.

"Where'd you guys buy that?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Mary Margret asked, looking at Emma in confusion. " _We_ didn't get him that."

"Wait, you didn't?"

"No," David said, shaking his head. "We thought _you_ did."

"But… if you didn't buy it, and I didn't, then…who?" Emma asked, mirroring their mystified expressions.

* * *

Regina was just heading downstairs when she heard a hesitant knock on her door. When she opened the door, she was shocked at the sight of Robin standing on her doorstop.

"Robin?" Regina gaped. "I…I didn't expect to see you here."

"For the record, it was a surprise to me, too," Robin stated with a shrug. "It's just...it was a curious thing today. When we woke up this morning, there was a present for Roland, sitting there outside our tent. It was a tin of candied fruits. The strange thing is, none of my men seemed to know where it came from. I was wondering if you had something to do with it."

"Me? No, it wasn't me," Regina said. "You _really_ don't know where it came from?"

"Well, Roland is insisting it was Santa Claus," Robin replied. "But I was wondering if you had another answer. Considering what happened at Granny's Christmas party."

"I'm afraid I'm just in the dark about it as you," Regina admitted. "The strange thing is, Emma and the Charmings called this morning. Apparently, Henry _also_ got a present that no one has owned up to buying."

"So, both Roland and Henry got presents from a mysterious benefactor?"

"But there _is_ no Santa Claus in the Enchanted Forest," Regina insisted.

"Well, looks like we've got a little mystery on our hands," Robin concluded. "Perhaps…we can discuss it a bit. On a walk through town?"

"You're…asking me to come on a walk?" Regina stared in surprise.

"I believe I am."

"Is this just to discuss who is giving our sons anonymous presents?" Regina was unable to quite meet his eyes, trying not to let her hopes get too high.

"Actually? No. No, to be honest, I was just using the mystery present as an excuse. I'd like to go on a walk with you. Just because."

"I'd like that," Regina said with a smile.

* * *

All over town, people in Storybooke were enjoying their usual Christmas traditions with their families. But there was one group of people who were not at home. In the middle of the Storybrooke cemetery, Belle and Neal were standing in front of a stone memorial that had been erected in Mr. Gold's memory. Wordlessly, Belle placed a wreath adorned with golden ribbons and pinecones at the base of the stone. After making sure that it was secure and wouldn't just fall over, she got back to her feet, dusting the snow off her pants. For a long moment, they stood in silence, simply looking at the memorial, unable to think of what to say. Finally, Neal reached out to place a hand on the stone face.

"Merry Christmas, Papa," he said.

After a moment longer, Belle and Neal turned and headed off to the entrance of the cemetery, where Jefferson and Grace had been waiting at respectful distance.

* * *

In the psychiatric ward beneath the hospital, Zelena was huddled morosely in the corner, barely looking up when the door was opened by the orderly.

"Good evening," the orderly greeted. "I've brought you your Christmas dinner. Looks like turkey, some potatoes, stuffing, a bit of cranberry…."

"Just leave it," Zelena huffed, not even sparing a glance at the orderly. If the orderly was put out by her attitude, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply placed the food tray on the bed next to her. But before he stepped out again, he looked back at Zelena.

"Also, this was dropped off for you this afternoon," he said, holding out a small present, wrapped in bright red paper. "Looks like your first ever Christmas present. That's exciting, isn't it? I'll just…leave it here for you. You can unwrap it at your leisure."

Zelena didn't even bother looking up until the sound of the orderly's retreating footsteps had faded away. For a long moment, she simply eyed the present, an unreadable look on her face. Finally, curiosity getting the better of her, she reached out and took it, unwrapping it slowly. Inside, she found an antique broach nestled inside a box lined with velvet and silk. Noticing there was also a small bit of paper tucked inside the broach box, she unfolded it to read the short note.

 _I found this among our mother's old things. I thought you might want it._

 _Merry Christmas_

'Hmm," Zelena muttered, looking from the note to the broach. Even though her expression remained neutral, she still attached the broach to her shirt with reverence.

* * *

In a house across town, Marco stood and watched as Pinocchio lit the menorah that stood in the window. When the boy was done, he went back to his father's side, throwing his arms around him in a hug, which Marco warmly returned. Upon breaking apart, they headed back towards the kitchen, where Archie was placing freshly made latkes out for them all to share.

* * *

Over at Jefferson's mansion, the dinner of Christmas turkey had wound down, and the attending guests were enjoying mulled wine, with wassail for the children, while Jefferson and Belle were placing the finishing touches on dessert. Emma was quite impressed at the turnout. In addition to herself, Henry and her parents, Killian, Regina, Robin, Roland and the Merry Men were there, along with Neal, Moe French, Grace's cursed parents, Granny, Ruby and a newcomer named Dorothy, who Ruby, Jefferson and Belle had apparently met and befriended during the Enchanted Forest expedition.

As Emma watched the other guests talking and laughing, particularly Henry and Roland, who were telling Grace about their surprise presents, with Roland once again insisting they were from Santa, she happened to glance over and spotted Killian slipping out. Feeling concerned, she followed after him.

"A bit too crowded for you?" she asked when they were out of earshot of the other guests.

"Not exactly," Killian replied. "I just wanted a bit of fresh air. I do like your hair comb, by the way. It suits you."

"Oh, yeah," Emma chuckled, lightly touching the hair comb that she'd placed in her hair before they'd left the loft apartment. "Thanks. Mom said they were my grandmother's. Oh! That reminds me! I actually…have something for you." With that, Emma reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. "I realize it's not much, but…I thought you'd like it." Interested in an instant, Killian carefully slipped open the envelope and pulled out an index card. Written across it was what appeared to be a recipe for stew.

"Is this…"

"Before we left that old man's house, the night of Granny's party," Emma explained, "I'd asked him for the recipe for his stew. I wanted you to know that you can have it again, at any time. Again, I know it's not much. But I know Mom was getting you a hat and gloves, and Granny had insisted on knitting you a scarf. So I wasn't sure what else…."

"Emma?" Killian interrupted, taking his eyes off the recipe card. "This is perfect. Thank you." Emma, seeing the sincerity in his face and tone, smiled in satisfaction.

"And….since we're exchanging presents," Killian continued. "I also had something I wanted to give you. But I wasn't sure of the right time."

"Is it another trip to Iceland?" Emma asked, half-teasing.

"No, not this time," Killian replied. To Emma's surprise, he appeared to be blushing slightly. "It's…just something I wanted you to have. You might find it a bit silly. But, from where I'm from, it is something of a tradition."

As Killian spoke, he produced a present that had been tucked away in his coat. Accepting it, Emma took a moment to admire the wrapping, marveling at how well he'd managed to wrap it, considering he only had one good hand. But that was nothing compared to her reaction upon seeing what the present was. Words completely failed her as she stared down at the octagon-shaped wooden box. The lid of the box was decorated with tiny shells that had been arranged in an intricate design. In the center of the shell mosaic was an image that looked like it had come from an antique postcard. It was an image of a majestic swan.

"Wow," Emma breathed, completely blown away. "Where did you get this?"

"Well," Killian muttered with a shrug, scratching his ear nervously. "I…didn't actually buy it from a shop."

"You didn't? Then….Killian, did you….make this?"

"As I said, it was an old tradition where I come from," Killian explained. "Although, it was typically something sailors would bring back to their lady loves after long voyages."

Emma's throat suddenly felt tight, staring down at the box. Her mind immediately started to picture Killian sitting on his ship, laboring away at arranging the design of shells and gluing them in place. In spite of herself, she started wondering how long he'd spent working on it.

"Killian," Emma whispered. "It's beautiful. I love it. Thank you." A wide smile appeared on Killian's face as he reached out to brush his thumb across her cheeks. It was only then that Emma realized she'd been crying. But she found she didn't care. Instead, she moved forward to kiss him in gratitude.

* * *

 **AN:** So glad I finished this story in time. Hope it was to everyone's satisfaction.


End file.
